We Found Each Other in the Dark
by Aquila1
Summary: "Working in an organization full of spies and covert assassins tended to breed trust issues. Despite that, Phil had always trusted May completely." - Phil and Melinda finally find themselves on the same page. Post-Nothing Personal.


**We Found Each Other in the Dark**

**Author's Notes: **My first foray into the world of S.H.I.E.L.D. and I after all the fun I had, it likely won't be my last time playing with Marvel characters. I'm never very timely with my writing, so cast your memory way back to the end of _Nothing Personal_. I've been writing it since the episode first aired. I'm just a little slow and often distracted. Thanks, Joy, my long-suffering beta, for reigning in my rampant commas and helping me out of my vocabulary ruts

* * *

><p>He hadn't uttered another word since his perfunctory, 'Huh,' over twenty minutes ago. Coulson sat ramrod straight in the battered motel chair, staring blankly at the now-dark laptop screen. He'd re-watched the T.A.H.I.T.I. transmission made by his 'former' self a half a dozen times, eyes fixed and body still. His only movement had been a shaky jab at the keyboard to start the video file playing again until he'd finally let the room descend into a heavy silence.<p>

May eyed the back of his head warily from her perch on the bed. She'd retreated from Coulson's eye line about halfway through the second viewing. She had considered leaving the room entirely, confident that she could have slipped out unnoticed to give Phil some space to wrap his head around the new reality she'd just dumped in his lap. She just couldn't bring herself to leave. Walking away once had been hard enough.

For all of her grumbling about Coulson uprooting her quiet and stable life in Administration and dragging her back into the field and onto that damned plane, there wasn't really anywhere in the world she'd rather be than within Phil Coulson's immediate orbit. Unfortunately, it was a weakness Fury had known well.

When the former Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. had read her in on T.A.H.I.T.I., Melinda had been so euphoric over the revelation that her best friend had cheated death that she would've done anything they'd asked to ensure his safety. The high didn't last long, however, and Melinda had had to swallow down a sick sense of dread as she'd only half-feigned reluctance when Phil had come to recruit her. That dread had only multiplied watching the team she'd carefully outlined the parameters for grow and evolve around them, becoming the closest thing she'd had to a family in any recent memory.

She'd tried … Melinda had truly tried to keep the walls she'd built after Bahrain intact, but Phil had always known the way in.

Sleeping with Ward had been a calculated move. Her time with the Beserker staff had left her raw and exposed, her emotions a twisted Gordian knot in her gut, begging for release. As much as she'd desperately wanted to go to Phil and spill all that was inside of her, it wouldn't have been something either of them could've walked away from. She never would've done that to him … to them, not with the weight of her mission – her secrets – bearing down on her.

So, Ward became the distraction she'd needed. His heart was no more in it than hers was – though in light of recent discoveries, May couldn't help but wonder if he even had a heart at all. It had also given her the chance to put a definite line between her and her former partner, not that she and Phil had ever really been good with boundaries.

The pain caused by Ward's betrayal was rooted less in the loss of a relationship that had never really existed in the first place, but in what it was doing to the team, her family … to Phil.

"May?"

Coulson's soft query, spoken in the general direction of the laptop screen, roused her from her musings. Before she could work her throat into forming an answer, he continued.

"Are you still behind me?"

Melinda was well aware his question had very little to do with her physical location. Pushing off from the mattress, she returned to her original position at his right elbow.

"No," she whispered, causing him to turn sharply, his eyes wide, to meet her steady gaze. "I'm right beside you."

Phil's whole countenance softened, his eyes red-rimmed but dry. He looked completely exhausted, and the sight tugged sharply at her heart.

His voiced dropped to a whisper. "I'm really glad you're back."

May couldn't quite control the small smile that spread across her lips. "Me, too."

Silence stretched thickly between them, the invisible cord that had always held them together over the years pulling taut, vibrating with anticipation. After a beat, Phil broke the spell, returning his gaze to the laptop.

"Where did you find this?"

May sighed. She'd hoped to avoid this part of the story. "I tracked down Hill," she began, ignoring Coulson's smirk. They both knew what had transpired at Providence Base, thanks to Melinda's tête-at-tête with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s former deputy director. "She told me that Fury had said that he'd buried T.A.H.I.T.I. the day he'd decided not to bury you."

It didn't take him long to make the same connection she had and his brow furrowed.

"May, you didn't …."

Melinda glared down at him, forestalling his words. "I did what was needed, what we needed."

Phil blew out a breath, shoulders slumping under the weight of everything they'd endured in the last … had it really been less than a week? His mouth worked for a moment as he tried to put his muddled thoughts into words and May braced herself, prepared to defend her position, only to be thrown completely off guard by his next question.

"Was there a funeral, when I died? Was there a service?"

May was stunned into silence, so Coulson took it upon himself, as he always did, to fill the void. "I mean, apparently I have a grave somewhere, and we both know Fury and what the man's capable of. So, how big was the charade? Did he go the whole nine yards?"

Melinda stiffened as memories of bugle notes and gunshots mixed with folded flags and a sobbing cellist.

"You had full military honours," she rasped, swallowing back the overflowing well of emotion that suddenly clogged her throat.

Still, Coulson heard the change and it stopped his speculation in its tracks.

"Oh, my God, May. You were there," he whispered, his voice a mix of awe and guilt.

"Yeah, well, apparently you weren't."

A soft smile took most of the sting out of her words as she reminded herself that it was only a memory; that, against all odds, he was alive and whole and right in front of her. No matter what they faced as the consequences of cheating death, Melinda would never regret the second chance she'd been given to have him in her life.

Watching him now, she couldn't miss the exhaustion that was dragging him down. He looked like he'd aged ten years since she'd last seen him a few days ago.

"Look, Phil, we're both tired. The rest of this can keep till morning. You need to get some sleep."

Coulson nodded absently, and Melinda breathed a sigh of relief as he stood up and made his way over to the bed. She'd worried that getting him to let ghosts lie for the night would be more of a challenge.

May took that as her cue and stepped towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Coulson's question stilled her hand on the door handle. Turning, Melinda found herself caught in the maelstrom of emotions swirling behind Phil's eyes. Fear, confusion, anger and frustration she expected, but as the moment stretched between them, his irises clouded with guilt and self-recrimination.

"It's okay, Phil," she whispered, hoping that he read the absolution layered within her easing of his fears. "I'll be next door. I booked a room –"

"Right beside me," Coulson finished. His gaze cleared and a hopeful smile bloomed across his face, lightening the load that had been weighing on her heart for months. Swallowing hard against the words piling up in her throat, Melinda slipped out the door and into the darkness.

* * *

><p>Phil couldn't drag his eyes away from the door.<p>

Everything was coming at him too quickly: HYDRA, S.H.I.E.L.D., Fury, Garret, Ward, T.A.H.I.T.I., and his already overtaxed brain was struggling to keep up. The ground was slipping from beneath his feet, leaving him desperate to hold onto the one solid thing in his life … and she'd just disappeared out into the night.

'What did you expect after the way you'd treated her?'

For one excruciating moment, the less-than-rational corner of his brain taunted him with what ifs.

What if, despite her assurances, May had just walked out for good?

The distant sound of the door to the adjacent room opening and closing quickly silenced his traitorous thoughts, and Coulson slumped in relief. May was exactly where she'd said she would be, beside him, which was so much more than he deserved.

Listing under the weight of what felt like an entire lifetime of exhaustion, Phil gave up his vigil at the door and turned back towards the bed. His gaze was immediately drawn to the laptop that now sat innocuously on the desk. One part of him wanted to hurl the damn thing at the wall in the hopes that by destroying it and all of the information it contained, he might stave off whatever they'd set in motion with its discovery. Still, another part of him wanted to cling to it as a window into the man he'd once been.

He'd thought those memories were unscathed.

Phil could still recall the sickening crunch and sharp burn of Loki's scepter as it had sliced through his rib cage. He could still feel the hot welling of blood in his chest and terrifying blackness that had steadily edged out Fury's orders. He'd thought that if he could remember his death so clearly, all that came before it must have been intact.

If they were going to implant a fake memory of an island vacation, the least they could've done was erase the terror that woke him in a cold sweat on still too many nights.

Now, it was clear that the good doctors of S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't just re-written his recovery but had also wiped away entire chapters of his past.

Much like when the initial memories had begun to override their fictional counterparts, this new knowledge was like a scab he couldn't stop picking at. Revealing what was underneath would be ugly and likely do permanent damage. He might not be able to stop the bleeding, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to bring himself to leave it alone.

He edged closer to the desk, coming to stand where May had stood, beside the chair. Absently, Phil traced his fingers along the laptop keys as he gazed sightlessly at the dark screen.

It didn't feel real.

He'd devoted all this time and energy into uncovering the conspiracy behind T.A.H.I.T.I., expecting to find some high-ranking mastermind pulling the puppet strings, and there was his own face telling him that his brain was most likely on the edge of unraveling.

May had had a good reason for keeping her secrets, apparently.

Despite anything he might have said to the contrary, Coulson had no trouble understanding the motivation and rationale behind May's subterfuge. Hell, prior to his 'resurrection', he would've done the exact same thing if she had been the one needing his help.

Now, however, in light of the mess S.H.I.E.L.D. had left him in, both professionally and personally, Phil was done with secrets. He was done with lying to people he cared about for the 'greater good', even if that greater good was their own safety. If his team had taught him anything in these last several months, it was that there was always another way to deal with the problem. They were figuring out how to handle HYDRA; they would figure this out as well … together.

He'd lashed out so viciously at Melinda when her mission had come to light because after all they had been through, she had the greatest power to hurt him. Working in an organization full of spies and covert assassins tended to breed trust issues. Despite that, Phil had always trusted May completely. Even after Bahrain had severed much of the ties that held them together, the core had never broken. It had simply stretched to accommodate their newfound distance. Having her back by his side after all these years, and watching some of the old Melinda find her way out of the darkness that she had worn like a shroud for so long, had been his greatest joy these past few months.

So, their standoff in the cargo bay, eyes locked through the sights of their pistols, had lit a ferocious rage within him, beyond anything he'd ever felt before, burning through his veins, leaving his heart black. They'd brought him back for this? To watch S.H.I.E.L.D. crumble around him while his one anchor in the maelstrom that was his world stood there and lied to his face? The idea that May could be HYDRA had been agonizing. Finding out that she'd known the truth about T.A.H.I.T.I. was almost worse.

Anger wasn't exactly rational, and looking back he was appalled by both his actions and his words. Now that the red haze of fury had finally cleared and he could see his best friend again behind the betrayal, Phil realized that he wasn't the only one suffering, and his little temper tantrum at Providence had only made things worse.

Still, by some miracle that he definitely didn't deserve, Melinda had come back, not only to the team, but to him.

"Committed to the cause or just watching my back?"

"Same thing."

Phil pushed back from the chair and spun to face the bed as memories of their time together flashed behind his eyes.

"Damn it, May!" he swore as he finally saw past the surface of her words. He yanked off his tie and tossed it to the bed – where it clashed painfully with the harvest gold paisley bedspread – in a fit of pique that faded as soon as it had flared.

She'd been telling him the truth the whole damn time in the only way she knew how, waiting and, considering how he'd reacted, likely dreading the day he'd finally figure it out.

Wrung out, Phil dropped to the bed, shrugging out of his jacket and absently fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. As his knuckles tripped over the ridges of his scar, Phil was rocked by the memory of Melinda's warm hand pressed against the seam that held him together as though she could contain all that threatened to spill from his heart whenever she was near.

"Whether it was for eight seconds or forty, you died."

Less than twenty-four hours ago, the memory of that moment had only fueled his anger and frustration, a reminder that she'd been keeping the truth from him even then. Now, all he could remember was the mix of pain and hope that had stained her dark irises that night in his office, as she'd stared unblinkingly at the evidence of his mortality. For all that he'd struggled these last few months, trying to piece together the truth of his life and death, Melinda had endured her own private hell, stoically supporting him in his quest for answers, despite being charged with keeping those answers buried forever. Twenty-five years of carrying each other through the worst storms their lives could throw at them and the moment she tested his faith, Phil had yanked the rug out from under her.

He dropped his head into his hands with a heavy sigh, digging the heels hard into his eye sockets.

"God, I'm a terrible friend."

* * *

><p>The gun was cocked and aimed steadily at the door before the lock finished disengaging.<p>

"It's me, May," Phil announced clearly as he nudged the door open with his hip.

Coulson was silhouetted against the dim light of the courtyard pool, his hands raised for good measure, the white tails of his open dress shirt glowing like wings in the darkness.

Melinda balanced the gun in one hand as she switched on the bedside lamp with a decisive click while kicking the bedspread down to her knees. She motioned him inside with a nod of her head, but didn't immediately lower her weapon. The pain, both physical and emotional, of his I.C.E.R. to the chest a few days ago was still fresh. A tiny, dark corner of her mind was half-inclined to give Coulson a taste of just what that felt like.

"I wouldn't blame you if you did," Phil rasped, answering her unspoken thoughts as he carefully brought his arms to his sides, his back rigid and braced for the worst. "God knows, I deserve it."

The anger and frustration that had welled up, unexpectedly, within her heart dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, streaming out in a steady breath as Melinda re-engaged the safety and twisted on the bed to return the weapon to its temporary place under her pillow. Free from his gaze for a moment, she closed her eyes and desperately tried to center herself. She needed more time. Melinda had been banking on at least a few more hours to rebuild her walls and put the mask back in place so that they could go back to 'normal' in the morning.

"Look, I know you probably want to put all this behind us and go back to normal, May, but I can't do that. Nothing is normal anymore - not S.H.I.E.L.D., not me, and not what we have together … that is, if I haven't completely blown that last bit all to hell."

Melinda couldn't quite contain her dry chuckle as she turned back to face Coulson, marveling at how no matter how dire the situation, he still had the uncanny ability to improve her mood, usually without actually meaning to.

He was staring back at her wide-eyed – probably because he hadn't heard her laugh in months – but his stance had relaxed significantly now that she was unarmed.

"What?"

She raised an eyebrow, a soft smile still tugging at her lips. "Just that after all the misunderstandings and misdirection in our lives these last few days, you pick now to become a mind reader?"

Phil smiled in earnest, putting a bit of a swagger in his step as he edged closer to where she sat on the bed. "What can I say? Maybe I'm developing a new super power."

The silence was thunderous.

The mirth that had danced behind his eyes only moments ago drained from his face, leaving behind ashen fear. May suddenly found herself face to face with the man she'd found strapped to Raina's torture table a few months ago.

"Phil," she barked in her best SO voice, hoping to snap him back out of the darkness that rose behind his now vacant gaze, anchoring him before he spiralled out into a full-blown panic attack.

It was enough, dragging Coulson back into the present with a shudder. Blinking away the shadows from his eyes, he met her naked concern with his best attempt at a smile.

"Too soon, huh?"

All Melinda could manage was a shaky, "Yeah," at his attempt to sweep away the last of the residual terror with the warped sense of humour that had won her over at the Academy decades ago.

It didn't last. The half-hearted smile vanished and he deflated before her, shoulders sagging on a heavy sigh as he ran a hand through what was left of his hair.

"God, May. Where the hell are we supposed to go from here?"

Phil swayed on his feet and Melinda instinctively shifted on the mattress, giving him room to fall.

"Right now, we go to bed."

His eyebrows shot up to chase his hairline and May couldn't help the sad smile that tugged at her lips.

"You're exhausted, Phil," she explained. "It's two in the morning and you haven't slept in days. Everything can wait for a few hours." Melinda very deliberately straightened and lifted the comforter in case her invitation still wasn't clear enough.

Phil floundered for another minute and May found herself called back to another hotel room, in another country, in what felt like another life before he finally found his voice.

"Are you sure?"

She arched her eyebrow and his response was so quick as to be comical. Phil nearly toppled over as he bent over to pull off his shoes and socks.

His exhaustion was contagious and Melinda struggled to keep it from dragging her down with him. As much as she wanted to simply drop her shields and let someone else carry on the battle, Phil still needed her, maybe now more than ever.

The dip of the mattress pulled May from her musings as Phil settled in beside her. His shirt had gone the way of his footwear, leaving bare the reminder of how fragile their lives were. As her eyes trailed up his scar to meet his gaze, it was clear she'd been caught.

"It's still pretty horrible to look at, I know," Phil muttered, pulling the sheet up along his sternum.

"No," Melinda whispered, reflexively reaching out to close her hand over his, the cool linen a stark contrast against the warmth of his skin. Gently, she prised the material loose, letting the cover drop back into his lap before laying their tangled hands over the thickened skin above his heart.

"No," she repeated, forcing herself to hold his eyes as she struggled for calm. "This is proof that you lived, Phil, that you're still living. This," she whispered, pressing tightly against his scar, "will never be horrible to me."

The air grew heavy between them and soon the weight of his gaze became too much to bear. Sighing, Melinda dropped her head, her eyes tracing the patterns drawn by her fingers as they mapped out the smooth ridges that bisected his chest, his heart beating wildly behind his sternum. Her own pulse thrummed in her ears while she desperately tried to regain her center.

She needed time and distance, but Phil wasn't going to let her have either.

His hand slid gently under her chin, tipping her gaze back up to his.

Words lodged in her throat. She could feel the line that had always been between them burning beneath her feet. They'd danced around it for so long that Melinda wasn't sure she even knew the next steps. An entire lifetime built on secrets and evasions and she couldn't do it anymore, at least not with him. She just didn't know where to start.

Sensing her distress, Phil slid his fingers up the length of her jaw before burying them deep in her hair, drawing her in carefully.

"God, Mel, I'm so sorry," he choked, slowly dropping his forehead to hers. His breath ghosting across her cheeks settled her skittish heart, and she let herself lean into his caress, for once ignoring all the reasons she told herself not to.

"You're the one person I've always counted on," Coulson continued. "You've always had my back, even when you couldn't be there, and then at the first test of my faith, I failed you so completely." He sucked in a shaky breath as his fingers clenched reflexively against her scalp. "I'm so, so sorry."

Melinda blinked furiously against the hot sting of moisture brimming beneath her eyelids. Sucking in an unsteady breath and drawing from the deep well of strength they'd built between them over the decades, she finally found her voice.

"I'm sorry I kept all of this from you, but –"

"It's okay, Mel. I understand," Coulson replied, cutting her off and igniting a flare of frustration in her gut.

"No. You don't." Melinda pushed back, finding his gaze again through the mist that clouded her eyes. His hands dropped helplessly to his sides and she mourned the loss of their warmth, but there was no way she was going to let herself get derailed now. They'd suffered from misunderstandings for too long.

"I need you to understand, Phil. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I would make the same choices. I would ... will always do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

Coulson's mouth worked silently as he searched for the words they needed to hear, but she wasn't finished.

"To hear you died," she whispered, picking up the thread she'd dropped a few days ago. "It was, in many ways, worse than Bahrain."

"No, Melinda –"

"I lost a lot in that hell hole; I lost the woman I was before that mission. But, after a while I realized that she was never really gone. You had kept her with you, Phil. All of these years, she's been here," May murmured, skating the pads of her fingers back over his heart. "When you died, I didn't just lose you. I lost myself. Getting you back has been a miracle, so I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Without you, Phil, there is no me."

Coulson blinked owlishly at her as the knot, that had been sitting in the pit of her stomach since he'd found her in his hotel room, twisted tighter. It wasn't really a declaration of anything other than a potentially unhealthy co-dependence, but she'd never felt more exposed.

As the silence stretched uncomfortably between them, May quickly lost her patience.

"Phil. Say something."

Coulson's lips twitched into a smile. "I'm sorry, May. I'm just a little shaken. Those are the most words I've heard you say in a row in as long as I can remember."

His answer drew an unexpected huff of laughter from her lips as the tension that had been building all night drained from her body in a rush. He'd always did have the most uncanny comedic timing. That, however, didn't keep her from punching him lightly in the arm in retaliation.

"Ow! Hey!"

At least it was her version of lightly.

Their shared laughter was the sweetest thing she'd heard in a long time.

Phil sobered quickly, however, snagging her hands with his own. "That's a nice sentiment, Melinda, but you're not giving yourself nearly enough credit. The woman you were before Bahrain, that woman I've kept in here," he breathed, bringing their hands back up to his chest to press them against his still-racing heart. "She was never lost. You've been carrying her with you all this time too, buried under all of the crap you've had to go through. I've always seen her, shining in your eyes when you think no one is looking."

He released her hands and she let them wander, fingers trailing up to his shoulders; she inched a little closer, tucking her leg underneath her thigh so she could face him more fully.

"Watching her ... watching you, find your way out of the darkness over the last few months has been one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen ... and don't forget, I've met Thor."

Her chuckle was decidedly watery as Melinda dropped her head to his shoulder. She needed a moment to re-center in the face of the seismic shift she could feel their relationship making, but was unwilling to sever the connection completely now that they had made it this far. Coulson's hand was a welcome weight on the back of her neck, keeping her close as she settled into his embrace.

"My point is –" Phil stopped, struggling with the words that just didn't want to leave his throat. "If I hadn't ... come back, you would've found your way on your own. You're so much more than you give yourself credit for, Melinda, and you would have been just fine. Still, I'm glad I got the chance to be here to see it."

"Me, too," she whispered into his neck. Phil's fingers threaded through her hair and she revelled in the newfound freedom to just be, and let Coulson support her for a little while.

She would've been content to simply sit in silence, letting his rhythmic passes across her scalp lull her into sleep. They were both so tired: tired of running, tired of fighting, tired of trying to hold everything together. Melinda was pretty sure this was the longest either of them had stopped to breathe, and she would have liked to let the moment stretch as far as it could but Coulson wasn't quite finished.

"And I will continue to be here for you. I know my current track record hasn't been exemplary, Melinda, and I know the future, and my ... health, is anything but certain, but I promise that as long as it's within my power, I will never let you down again." Angling closer, he whispered into her hair, "You mean a lot to me, too. I don't want there to be any secrets left between us. If I've learned anything, it's that I can't do this without you."

Although loathe to leave her newfound resting place on his chest, Melinda drew away to once again to meet his gaze, leaning into Phil's hand as he trailed it along her cheek. Her heart was straining at the seams, and words were piling up in her throat. There was still so much more that needed to be said, but when Melinda finally took a moment to really register what she was seeing, all that was inside of her was shining back from the clear blue of his eyes.

The knot in her chest eased and she leaned into him, brushing a kiss across his forehead. "You'll never have to, Phil. I'll be here," she breathed against his temple, settling herself back into the crook of his neck as Phil eased them down against the pillows.

"Right beside me," he replied, words rumbling deep within his chest as he pulled her tightly against him.

Their conversation was far from over. Layers of secrets still needed to be pulled back, dusted off, and exposed to the light of day, but it could all wait. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, they'd both stopped running and found themselves in the same place. For once, May was just content to live in the moment, to accept the comfort Phil was offering and to give some back in return. With Coulson's heartbeat evening out beneath her, Melinda let herself finally succumb to her exhaustion, dropping her shields in the one place she knew she was safe.

The war had only just begun, but after years of watching his back, they would face tomorrow's battle side by side.


End file.
